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Chapter Text

"This must be some sort of a jest!"
Rhaenyra's chest rose and fell rapidly, her face flushed as she reread the words.

Daemon let out a self-assured, arrogant chuckle. To him, the letter was nothing but a mirage—a ridiculous piece of nonsense not worth his attention.

"I've never known my brother to be a jester," Daemon said, a cool indifference in his voice.
"But it seems he has started today." He flung the letter away, already turning his attention to his sword, refusing to waste another thought on the disturbing request. He got up to rub Rhaenyra's shoulders where she sat at her desk, but she turned away and stood up, refusing to be pacified.

"No, no. This is not even a jest I like," she said tensely, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Her mind was lost in a cloud, trying to make sense of the odd letter. "I must go and see my father before this weird seed from his imagination germinates."

"If you ask me, we should just pretend we never saw this nonsense. Viserys knows better," Daemon said, trying to calm her once again. "He may be a lot of things, but he won't ask a stupid question twice if the first time he's met with silence."

Rhaenyra shook her head and looked Daemon in the eye. "I'm going to the Red Keep." The words were a declaration, not a negotiation. With that, she walked briskly through the massive doors.

From outside, Daemon heard her clipped tone. "Barbel, tell the keepers to ready Syrax."

Two Weeks Earlier
Sunlight kissed the spotless marble floor, and a soft breeze ruffled the leaves of the plants on the large windowsill, adding a musical element to the already perfect weather. The King's chambers were the perfect scene for a painting.

King Viserys was all smiles, showing Devon Celtigar his miniature model of Old Valyria. Everybody knew he loved his model, but what he loved most was using it to teach old Valyrian history. The moment took him back to the nostalgic times when he used to teach Rhaenyra lessons when she was a child. It had been so long that he felt happy teaching another young Valyrian with it, since Rhaenyra had outgrown that stage. Devon filled that role presently as he listened attentively.

"...And that is why our people kept the underground pits closed off, because when you account for mishaps, you quickly see that the sheer size is more..."

His speech trailed off as Maester Sheryk and Queen Alicent unexpectedly entered the room.

Alicent hovered behind the maester, as if to remain unseen, her eyes on the ground as she fidgeted with her nails. Her jaw was set tight as if she were holding her breath. Viserys raised an eyebrow, wondering what was to come from their presence.

"Devon, I think this lesson will end earlier today. It's almost lunch and I think duck is on the menu. You said you like duck, if I remember correctly," the King said, dismissing the young boy with a reassuring smile.

"Yes, your grace, thank you, your grace," the boy replied and left the room with excitement. Devon was none the wiser to the fact that he was the only one excited in the room.

When it was just the three of them, the Maester cleared his throat and spoke up, albeit with slightly visible nerves.
"Your grace, we've come to ask you to make a statement." Maester Sheryk took a deep breath before he continued. "We plead for you to tell the new dragon keepers—personally—not to listen to threats from... uhm... dragon riders," Maester Sheryk said, his voice trembling slightly behind his smile.

He went on by adding, "Their concern should always be the safety and well-being of people and dragons alike. In doing so, they commit no harm and no punishable crime." King Viserys noted the emphasis that Maester Sheryk placed on "punishable crime."

Viserys squinted, as if that might clarify what he was being asked to do any better. He slowly tilted his head. "Speak plainly. I sense there is something pressing you're not telling me."

The maester sighed. "Your grace, the new retinue of dragon keepers were on duty last night, and... well, Prince Aegon—the elder—was overcome with wine, again. He went to ask for his dragon, and when the young keepers hesitated, he threatened to have their heads on spikes. They reported it to the older dragon keepers, who told them not to be swayed, but they... they want reassurance from the king himself."

Viserys groaned a guttural sound, placing his elbow on his chair's arm and his head in his palm. He looked as if he was trying to rid himself of the disappointment he felt.

"Alicent, what do you have to say about this? Is there any hope of the boy going a day without doing something foolish? Do I need to put him on an actual leash?" he asked, with bitterness clear in his tone.

Alicent stood with her hands clasped, her jaw tight as if biting back a reply. "Your grace, I don't know what to say to that."

Viserys finally looked up, to say to Maester Sheryk. "And of course I know when it's Aegon the elder. At least my grandson Aegon the younger doesn't make my veins spike up."

That statement brought a frown to Alicent's face. She stared at the expensive draperies in the room and felt like tearing them with all the anger she suppressed. "I will talk to Aeg—" but the King cut off the Queen as he raised his voice.

"A dragon is not a bloody toy! If he wants to drink until it leaks from his eyeballs, so be it, but the line that should never be crossed is flying while drunk. This is so simple, I cannot believe I have to tell someone who isn't an infant, Alicent."

The King massaged his temple quietly, but Alicent knew that he wasn't done and so she didn't bother to say anything.

And truly, the King had another thing he wanted to get off his chest. And what better opportunity than now?

"Just yesterday, in this very room, I was told Aemond was mocking Ser Larys's clubfoot. I am ashamed. I am almost always perpetually ashamed of these boys. He not only mocked and imitated him but did it to his face in public. I had to apologize directly because he definitely deserves an apology and more. When it's not callousness, it's depravity with these children. They never do any good, which is not a necessity I hold them to, but can they not cause harm?"

"In Aemond’s defense, it wasn't without provocation. Larys is among the gossips who call him 'Hightower'!"

"Well, is the boy not a Hightower?" Viserys said before she could continue.

"He's a Targaryen!" Alicent almost shouted at the king.

"You can’t say you don’t hear what they are saying under your own roof," she added, her voice low as if about to say something secret.

"What is the problem? Is their mother not a Hightower? Do you not see Rhaenyra priding herself in Valemen apparels and jewels every chance she gets?"

"But nobody aside from herself calls her Arryn. They call the children Hightowers as a slight. They say that aside from their features, there is nothing Valyrian about them. That’s mockery. This is how it starts. Are they trying to write them out of Targaryen history?"

"Alicent, don’t be an alarmist. Nobody is writing anybody out of history. I don't actually know what to make of your claims. But there is never honor or blessings that follow someone making a jest of an incomplete man. Aemond should not interpret people remarking on his similarities with his mother as a slight. For him to do that, you as well must stop searching for the insult in it. I don't see why a mother wouldn't want her kids to be called the very image of her."

Alicent exhaled sharply and turned her head towards the window. There was no point. Not with King Viserys. He never saw things without being hassled. She couldn't understand why he, a Targaryen, was not offended by this name-calling. It was a common chorus now, to say her children were not Targaryen enough. They just sat and pointed fingers. What did not being Targaryen enough even mean?

King Viserys's voice, much lower now, cut through her thoughts. "Do something about Aegon's foolish exhibitions. He mustn't disgrace himself and everyone else when he drinks. From now on, let him confine his misadventures to his chambers. Because If I find myself having this conversation with you again..." The King trailed off.

But then with a tone that was almost softer, he stared into the distance and said, "If I am prompted enough, I'll have to take drastic steps. I mean it."

Alicent's head snapped from the window. Her eyebrows furrowed in perplexity. She stepped closer to the King and asked, "What do you mean by drastic steps?"

"What I mean doesn’t matter if you simply put a leash on the boy and stop letting him destroy himself and our name."

Alicent opened her mouth to object, then closed it. She simply curtseyed, gave a tight, "Very well, your grace," and turned on her heel to leave. Though not without a hint of sarcasm.

"Maester Sheryk, bring the young dragon keepers to me in the next hour. Let me clean up this mess, as I usually do."
"Of course, your grace." The maester left, leaving Viserys alone to stew in his anger.

Chapter Text

Alicent furiously marched down the halls, stomping and shoving servants in her path. Her ladies-in-waiting tried but failed to scurry after her in a graceful manner. “Your Grace?” Lady Amendra asked with concern. She had been her lady-in-waiting for years and knew better than most that the King and his Queen's tense arguments concerning their children usually left the Queen vexed and irritable. “Shall I call your other ladies, your grace? Perhaps a walk will lighten your mood,” Lady Cate asked in a poor attempt to look proactive. Being the Queen's lady was emotionally turbulent because all the emotions she could not unleash on her husband, King Viserys, she unleashed on anyone within arm's length.

“Leave me be! Nobody should talk to me for the remainder of the day!” Those were Alicent's last words before she stormed through the door of Aemond’s chambers and slammed it loudly in the face of her ladies-in-waiting. With that, they knew the Queen's temper was no longer their problem and went about their way.

Inside his chambers, Aemond held himself rigid as stone on a stool in the receiving area while a maester stitched a slice on his shoulder. He immediately sensed his mother was in a mood and would have wished for nothing more than not to think at all while being stitched. But this was his mother, and he had to be there for her by listening to another transgression she had suffered at the hands of their father because if he didn't, no one would. He thought the least he could do was bear the pain and address what was bothering her. So he did just that. With a locked jaw and his physical pain set aside, he listened to her rant as the needle tore at his flesh.

“Aemond, if I were to write a full list of everything I do for you children, all the parchment paper in the Red Keep would not be enough to contain it.” The maester almost arched an eyebrow at hearing this but stopped himself in time before either mother or son noticed him.

“The Seven would always count you among the most holy mother figures when the light shines upon your soul,” Aemond tore out through gritted teeth in reply. Talking was almost like swallowing glass, but his mind still strung words to comfort her.

Alicent paced back and forth until she finally revealed the object of her frustration: “Your father just finished nagging me about the behavior of you and your brother. I tried, as any good mother could, to defend you and talk about what you and your siblings have been going through. But trust him to not see it from our angle. I told him about the vile nicknames that weighed on my children, but he so obviously brushed them away. He just kept waxing lyrical about how rotten my kids are; you'd think I put children in my own belly.” A humorless laugh came out when she uttered the last part. “Every day I fight for you children. If I die, no one will fight your battles—least of all your father. Tell me what good it was to bring up Rhaenyra's son, who may still be in diapers, in comparison to Aegon. Aside from the name they copied from my son, there is no reason to compare. But if he does not sing praises to Rhaenyra's family, his lecture wouldn't be complete, would it?” Alicent slipped into her habit of pouring out her mind to Aemond in the form of an endless soliloquy.

“I'm sorry that the King has ruined your day.” Aemond was sincere because he truly hated how his mother got worked up by him.

She took a deep breath, stopped pacing, and turned to him looking deflated. “Why did you have to mock Larys in public?” Before Aemond opened his lips to answer, he winced from the sharp sting of the needle. “Never mind. That is the least of my problems now.”

Aemond, stoic as ever, wasn't wailing, but he wondered whether his mother even noticed he was being stitched up.

“Aegon needs…” The Queen pondered aloud about what she'd do. “He needs to have a leash on him; after all, those were your father's exact words.” “Aegon should behave like a prince for at least a month; that shouldn't be too much to ask. He can muck about behind closed doors doing whatever, but he should not make his vices so public. You see, the King is threatening stricter measures and the Seven knows I don't know what he means by that.”

“Aarrghhh,” Aemond groaned as the maester was stitching a second time upon the already-sewn stitch.

“Aemond, are you even listening?! You need to do something about Aegon. I can't do this alone. Viserys isn't going to help me, but he's going to blame me. I need you, Aemond. We need to think of ideas on how to let the next month pass without him bringing curses to his mother's name,” Alicent said as she finally took a seat on one of his couches.

“Yes mother, I'm already thinking about it as we speak,” Aemond said, gripping his thigh so hard to soothe the pain of the needle.

“Besides, father hardly notices what we do. Aegon could literally not cross father's mind for all of this month and next, so I wouldn't say you should worry about this imaginary stricter measure in question.”

Aemond could finally complete a sentence as the maester stopped stitching and was preparing sealing liquid to place on his wound.

Aemond took this moment to say, “I received news from the high philosopher at the Synadome. I was offered a placement, mother. I dropped the letter in your chambers for you to see.” His voice took a different tone; to anyone who was paying attention, it sounded like the rare excitement he harbored only when he was a boy.

If Alicent took note of her son's enthusiasm at the news, she showed no sign of it. She only toyed with her necklace impatiently, then as she stood up from her seat, she simply replied, “We will discuss preparations for your studies at a later date, but right now I can't sit around; I have to go find your brother.”

“Of course mother, as you should.” This time, he went back to his signature cool tone. Alicent, within a second, had walked out wordlessly, leaving Aemond and the maester in his chambers alone. Before he could reflect on feeling unacknowledged, the maester put the scalding sealing liquid on him. He let out a low wail because of how harsh the sealant was. The paste sizzled in the quiet room as it made contact with his bloody skin. It hurt almost as much as the gash, but now he knew the pain would stop.

“Is that all, Maester Helwin?”

“Yes, my prince.” “What, then, are you waiting for? Leave before I blink,” Aemond said flatly.

As the maester hurried out of his room, Aemond began to think through a hurricane of thoughts.

Larys Clubfoot is a fool if he thinks that if all the people of the Red Keep are mocking us, that he can join in the snickering when his very existence is pathetic.

The prince's face contorted into a look of disgust as he thought about the man. The irony of Aemond’s acidic thoughts was lost on him when he himself had only one eye. But soon, anger welled in his chest when his thoughts took a turn.

Why on earth am I the one who is always tasked with babysitting that imbecile? Aegon idles about. I don't, but that's never worthy of note.

His mind swam from one point to another. Aemond thought he had a better grasp of reality, seeing the King's threats as nothing more than a forgotten bluff. He decided to bid himself to sleep to escape the pain.

Still simmering from her talk with the King, Alicent walked aimlessly with no destination in mind. All she could think about was how she could smack sense and civility into her son's head until she heard her name.

“Alicent!” She turned to see her father walking briskly toward her. “Oh father, I guess the Mother Above sent you to me because I feel like you'd be able to help me think of what to—”

“Greselda! Or is it Gretchen?” Otto Hightower cut his daughter off. Alicent had a look of confusion hearing the name. “Gretchen? How will she help me make Aegon behave?”

This was met with a slight flabbergasted look from her father. “What? I'm not talking about Aegon, and I could hardly care what he does or if he behaves.” Alicent wasn't shocked by her father's comments about his grandson, but he pulled her to the side to whisper something to her.

“Ser David did something, you see. He laid with Gretchen, and now she's crying.”

“Why?” Alicent asked even though she suspected the detail he chose to leave out.

“Well… he laid with her in a way where she did not care to do the act, but he did it still.” Alicent frowned slightly, saliva pooled in her mouth as she digested the information.

“Don't move your face like that! These things happen! She's just a chambermaid. Being in the bathing area of a man's chambers will get him excited. Let's not act like in her own spare time she isn't cavorting with a stable boy or someone of the sort.” His voice contorted into something mean as he scolded the Queen.

“Father, I haven't even made a comment yet,” Alicent pointed out dryly. “Look daughter, Ser David is my trusted squire. His father is an army commander in his region and that's more than useful for… the future. The point is I don't want to send him away or, worse, let the King know. If the King heard about it, he'd be punished severely. Cover it up like the last time. Give her moon tea, give her a bag of coins, a dress you haven't worn in years. Then dismiss her. Make her feel like it's a transaction, like she benefited something from it. That way she'd stop bleating and crying like a damned goat as if she's the first to go through it,” Otto Hightower spat out the instructions like a seasoned politician. With enough pomp and pageantry to make a plan seem grand even while whispering.

“Do you understand me, Alicent?” His tone was identical to how he spoke to her as a child, and she herself felt like a child despite being a mother to four grown children.

“Yes father,” she answered resolutely as she dropped her gaze to the ground.

“Good. This is your duty. It's a Queen's job to tie up loose ends in her castle. These girls would like to pretend that they don't let the servant boys fondle for a loaf of bread.” All of a sudden, he knew how to use a friendlier tone now that she had agreed to his appalling request.

“I will see to it, father,” Alicent reaffirmed.

“Excellent,” Her father now bore a slightly triumphant smile. But Alicent continued, “I wanted to say that the King is upset at Aegon's recent drunk episode and he's expecting me to do something about it. I don't even know what to do. Help me think of what to do because he's just so uncontr—”

“I honestly don't care,” Otto let out curtly, with all traces of his former smile gone” Aegon is destined to be a drunk.” He spoke as if he were certain of water's wetness. “Never mind the King's concerns. Even the King knows it's his son's defining feature to waft about under booze. But if you want to busy yourself with Aegon, feel free; you are his mother, after all. But that's just a waste of thought process for me. I have more important things to do and think about than my so-called grandson's wild depravities and—” ​

“Very well, father.” It was Alicent's turn to cut him off. She'd had enough of his harsh remarks. She plastered on a sugary-sweet, false smile—the type she used to conceal her true thoughts—to hide the fact she was trying to make him leave.

“Alright then,” Her father looked at her for a moment and then stalked off without a care in the world.

Now alone in the hall, she tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She was used to being dismissed, or at least she tried to convince herself she was. Her father was unbothered about Aegon, and Aegon's father was even more unbothered. Yet it was Otto who had pushed her to be Queen and have princes for the King who was so desperate for a prince. Now she had them and was the only one losing sleep over them. She couldn't help but think of the irony. Everyone wants a son, but nobody wants to raise a son.

Chapter Text

Aemond sauntered down the street unlike his older brother, with his head low and his steps quiet. The streets were busy and another buzzing night of the city was on the cusp of beginning. The working part of the day had ended so friends and kin gathered around each other to share mirth and leisure– something foreign to the Prince.

He stationed his horse not too far away with a stable he trusted. He made it a habit to always pay triple the amount for the stable keeper and the stable boys to be discrete. Even if he hid his sleek silver hair, he couldn't hide his scar and his black eye patch. Violet eyes may be extremely rare but bastards existed, not a multitude but few in the city allowed for the benefit of the doubt. But unfortunately for him, nobody else had an eye patch and a knife scar across the face.

Aemond valued his privacy, especially when it came to secrets of his that he couldn't tell a soul. In truth, there were not many people he shared his secrets with, so he held them close to his heart instead. 

Each visit he grappled with contradictory thoughts. How could something he tried to convince himself was a necessity make him feel a weird revulsion within his head.

On the outside, the rest of the world saw a scary mangled face and he took it a notch further by wearing the air of blood thirst and a predator's glare on his face. He learnt years ago that when you scare people before they come too close, it saves you from the usual cycle of rejection and disgust.


It had been over a week since he received his offer of placement at the Synadome yet still no talk of it. The quiet was slowly turning him anxious and uncertain. He didn't want to add to his mother's already full plate, so he planned to talk to the only person he could confide in. 

The younger prince walked through the open doors of the very notorious building.
“Is she around? Is she ready for me?” He lowered his voice to ask the woman at the front desk.

“Yes my Lord” the woman knew to use a wrong title to not attract the wandering ears that the prince so strongly avoided.

Aemond walked up the stairs and passed by many scantily clad women, but they weren't who he was here for. The familiar smell of perfume and aphrodisiacs swam through the air and some walls in the cheaper rooms gave way to the sound of aggressive moaning, but alas, he finally got to her room.

“Madam Sylvie”

“Welcome, My Prince. I've cleared my night for you, expecting no other customers. Even the other women know not to come look for me; I'm nothing but yours tonight” Sylvie's voice was like Silk. She had that tone of deference mixed with sensuality akin to a well experienced prostitute that knew how to say the right things. 

“You are far too kind.”

Aemond removed his eye patch. He appreciated the fact that Sylvie was so professional with her services that she didn't tell him to cover up his false eye. He took a seat on the bed and dropped a small sack.
“This is for five hours, double your price for it, as usual.” 

“Thank you little Prince” A genuine smile spread across the older woman's soft face. 

“All the other prostitutes are envious of me, you know. They wish they had someone who took stretches of time and paid double for it. They say to me, thank the gods you make that much. I can't imagine the state of your cunt when he's done with you.” She chuckled at the thought of people's misconception. 

Meanwhile Aemond tried not to wince at this.
“What they don't know is that you only ever go once. Nothing more than a round for all those hours. Two if we haven't had a session in a long while.” Sylvie smiled

Aemond didn't want to dwell on women remarking on his sex life. He instead mechanically removed his clothes as Sylvie watched from the bed. The older woman understood that the Prince followed the same pattern with every visit. Removing his own clothes and folding it was one of them.

Aemond was naked now and so was Sylvie. He took position lying next to her nestling his head on her bosoms. His cock was now fully erect. Instinctively, Sylvie raised her hand to stroke up and down his length, but Aemond put his hand on hers, signaling her to stop. 

“What troubles you my little prince”
“ Thank you for asking Sylvie. So many things. But I feel restless.” He took a deep breath, held it and finally exhaled. 

 “It's been over a week now that I got my offer of placement. Mother and Grandsire have said nothing to that effect. I understand, I really do, that mother was overwhelmed last week concerning the King's threats about Aegon. I blame Aegon for being a pain in the ass and I blame the King for giving mother grief over it. Her plate has been full. I just wish there was one statement said about it at least”

“I would have asked why you don't ask the King himself but I know what you would say”

Aemond didn't give that a response.

“I'm choosing the history of the Faith, I think. It's something Mother would love for me to do”

“I'm sure that would gladden her, my prince. You are the light in your mother's life, you are the one holding your mothers happiness together by a thread.”

“Thank you Sylvie. That's why I left my letter, the offer letter I was given in her chambers. Do you know I traveled to the Synadome three times for my assessment by road. I didn't take Vhagar. I wanted it to be that they saw my mind, not the beast I rode. It feels nice knowing I got accepted in truth.”

“I think that is something so commendable”

Aemond furrowed his brows when an idea dawned on him
“I fear my mother is not acknowledging it because it's not the Citadel. The Citadel is famous, but there are so many more better institutes. The Citadel has this amazing propaganda behind it, that it's the best, but if I'm honest, it's not. I can't admit this, you know. House Hightower would never accept such utterances, and mother is loyal to her house, so to her the Citadel is the end all and the be all. Now that I say it out loud, I'm thinking it's overly ambitious of me to hope that the highest ranking Hightower would let her son turn away from the Citadel?” She wouldn't do that now would she? Aemond asked this question as if Sylvie would somehow magically know the answer.

Aemond sat up with the discomfort of a new worry colouring his features, Sylvie dragged him down and said “My prince you worry yourself too much with these thoughts. You are right. It's only just stress. The Queen would come around sooner than later”

“Perhaps…perhaps that is true.”


Aemond tried to not think about it anymore. Afterall, there was no use. 

“Grandsire has been hinting at making a betrothal between me and one of the Baratheon sisters”

“Oh really”

“I don't remember which. It matters not. Grandsire said we would not marry anytime soon anyway.”

“What does the King have to say”

The King, I'm sure, does not know. Truthfully, the match is for Grandsire's plans for the future, and that's the exact thing that he hides from the King.

“Is that what you want?”

“What do you mean by that question?” 

“The Baratheon girl? Is she what you want in a bride?

“It isn't about want, it is about duty...Duty to my brother. To help him get what should be his” The words came out of Aemond’s mouth but it sounded more like a recital than an actual thought.

“You are truly the most dutiful prince”

“If I'm being honest, I would have chosen a Valyrian bride. But I've made peace with the fact that that won't be possible”

“Whoever it is that they foist upon me, I will do my part. To make her house a good ally. I understand she, whoever she may be, would be unhappy that it's the disfigured prince she got, but I'll at least not frustrate her. If it is the distance she wants, which she would most likely want, then I'll give it to her. I would give her all the trappings of a prince's bride, the gold, the jewels, then she and I would lead our two separate lives. 

“You've always been generous my little prince”

Quiet settled over them. Then Aemond voiced the thought that had been simmering in his chest
“One thing is for sure, I won't hit my future bride. I won't be a wife beater!”

Sylvie's head shot up from the pillow. 

Her detached demeanor slipped because for the first time in a while, an utterance from Aemond caught Sylvie off guard. She couldn't pretend she wasn't curious so she just asked him directly 

“Why ever would you say that, my prince. I mean it's right, and commendable, but you said it from nowhere. What inspired this proclamation?”

Aemond bit his tongue. As much as he trusted Sylvie, there was a limit to what he could say. And this was that limit.

Chapter Text

“Come along boys, the night is but a fledgling. Young and promising” Aegon shouted into the cool night, with the bravado of someone used to orchestrating tavern crawls and late night parties. He was the life of the party and he relished it.

“Yeeeeee!” Aegon's friends belted out in concurrence. They hooted and hollered as one would expect from a bunch of obnoxious and spoiled young men on their way to have a wild night. The energy among them was nothing short of glee for another night where the prince would spoil them with ever flowing booze, exotic dancers, and paid bard players. The latter would sing songs praising each of them as if they were the most gallant heroes.

The sound of laughter penetrated the air around them. The type of laughter that came from privileged young men who loved to enjoy the fine and luxurious things that their birth and name handed to them.

The sun had set, leaving a cool gentle breeze. They trooped into a pair of modest looking carriages. Not the usual ornate ones they used during the day, but discrete transport for their excursions. Something that didn't draw attention to them.

Being in Aegon's inner circles had many perks. He enjoyed making many friends who were just like him; lads that believed that every day was as good as the booze that flowed, but unbeknownst to him, he sometimes blurred the lines of friendship. Obviously any lad would want to be friends with a prince of the realm, even a grandchild of a prince would be of great social and financial benefit but you see, Aegon was a unique case. And there were friends with true love for him and then...there were others.

Aegon did anything his friends asked no matter how ridiculous or wild. It wasn't for any political reason nor grand one either. And it would take a while before Aegon would even understand exactly why.

“My prince, I've been thinking about something–” but Before Ser Bartimus could even continue Ser Ian cut him off to quip “Bartimus forming thoughts? That deserves some celebration”

Aegon and his friends burst out into a fit of laughter that echoed even outside the moving carriage.

Bartimus only rolled his eyes and said “No one livens up the city like you my prince”

“That is correct. Keep up with those thoughts Ser Bartimus” Aegon said it with a smile, and another round of laughter came over the men

 Ser Bartimus, unphased, simply continued “You spend a good fortune on these taverns, lounges, inns and brothels, night after night and I feel you are not recognized enough for that. We should not have to pay bard players to sing your praise. At this point they need to tussle among themselves over who gets to play for you.”

Bartimus let those words sink in as the other 5 men in the carriage pondered over what he said.

“Do they mean to say that you haven't lived up to your uncle,my prince?” Now Bartimus had everyone's full attention. Aegon's face immediately morphed into a confused expression as his eyebrow shot up “Eh, I'm not losing sleep over not being likened to Gwayne Hightower. They already call me Hightower behind my back in the castle enough as it is” Aegon laughed but this time there wasn't any true humour in his eyes.

“You mistake me, my dear friend. I am talking about the Rogue Prince.” Bartimus whispered that line, as if the mention of the Rogue Prince too loud would incur his wrath or make everyone in the carriage mysteriously burst into flames.

Any outsider would have believed either of those options were possible because for the first time in the evening, the group of loud men fell completely silent. The truth of the matter was that the Rogue Prince was larger than life itself and the mention of his name drew the attention of even the toughest of crowds.

“Prince Daemon?” Aegon made a full belly laugh but the smile didn't touch his eyes “The Rogue Prince would much rather argue with the Seven above that he is no uncle of mine, so I don't really see your point Bartimus.” The bitterness in his tone was slight but it was there for anyone paying attention.

THUD THUD THUD

The guard hit the door from outside and jolted them from the gist they were engrossed in.

They didn't even know that they had gotten to their first stop for the night because they were so taken with what Bartimus was implying. They got down and scampered into the bar. The men took their place on a large intricately designed table not with stools like other customers, but soft cushions because they were very important patrons. The men from the second carriage joined them soon after and they quickly descended into their usual bar speak and crude jokes.

But Aegon, still trapped by Bartimus’ insinuations, couldn't help when the words left his mouth “Barty, what was it you were speaking in riddles for?”

Bartimus looked thoughtful as he said, “Maybe it's nothing. Or maybe it's just my overarching love for you, but not enough reverence is given to you despite all the love you give to the city's nightlife. It has been many years since Prince Daemon Targaryen has left the city for Dragonstone, yet the city still gushes after him. It's as if you walk by with your silver hair out, and people hope it's him, but instead it's you. I can almost see the disappointment in their eyes. And that's ingratitude!”

He took a sip from his cup to let that settle in their minds and then continued “You withhold no expense in these establishments, you tip these bartenders graciously and you turn forgotten bars into lively halls. Does it not seem odd that you have no name vested on you by the people. The rogue prince was named Prince of the City! He hasn't even been in these city streets in years!! But every corner instead of worshipping your feet, they love to live on the memories of your uncle. Even Fleabottom canonized him as Lord Fleabottom. All this for a man that left a century ago. You are here! Every night! Warming the beds and pockets of prostitutes. Even the ugly ones! they don't appreciate you enough and if there's something I hate it's ingratitude.

“He's right!” Ser Ian bellowed

“That's a fine observation you made Bartimus” Ser Julius agreed with thoughtfulness in his voice

“Your generosity knows no bounds, my prince” Ser Erwin added

“They worship the Rogue Prince” Ser Davos whispered while he shook his head

“How stupid of them! If it weren't for you, no royal would grace these streets, certainly not that bore of a brother of yours called Aemond” Ser Ian's voice bellowed through the length of their table

“You deserve to be called the new prince of the city Aegon. You've kept the bars company ever since your uncle left” Ser Bartimus declared

“Have we been tame during our nights? Tame? Gods, no! Perhaps we haven't been loud enough. We need to wake the whole city!” Ser Ian stood up raising his drink as if to toast

“Maybe it's the nickname Hightower that made its rounds to the city, they may think your cock doesn't leak Targaryen seed so to them the real Targaryen prince is still in absentia” Ser Bartimus landed the heaviest blow

“Enough!” Aegon tore through a scowling face That hit a little too close to an actual wound for him.

Before now he felt at home when he came out at night, but now he wondered whether the love between him and the city was so one sided. It was only the start of the night, yet he felt deflated in spirit.

He gulped a full cup of booze as if he were inhaling mere air from the cup. Aegon's thoughts whirled. He had asked Bartimus to go further but now the topic of conversation had him feeling sour and he didn't want to think such on a night out.

Ser Ian sensed discomfort in Aegon, felt bad for him so he tried to change the subject. “Did you see the feast for eyes on display when we walked in here” Ian's eyes were already pooling with lust

“Whatever do you mean?” Ser Erwin questioned him while eating sour bread.

Ser Ian leaned in and in a lower voice “Those were exotic fire dancers from outside Westeros. I hear they dance with fire attached to their waist….and they'd be wearing nothing but the fire”

“Ohhhh” a low chorus passed through the table as the men envisioned the image Ian painted.

“You are free to touch them if you think you wouldn't be burned by the fire. Those women are rumored to be so beautiful and their cunts? The best you'd ever feel. Apparently a top merchant's son is getting married and he spent a pretty big expense to bring those dancers for entertainment. The wedding itself is six days from now”

“And how do you know all this then” Ser Erwin quizzed Ian with a raised brow

“Because my brother is part of the wedding party. But the ass won't take me, so I just have to see if I can catch a glimpse when leave this place for the next stop”

“Glimpse? Why should we settle for just a glimpse?”

All heads immediately turned to Aegon who had been drinking bottles back to back before he spoke. “What are you implying, my prince?” Ser Ian asked

“They may be all the rage wherever they came from. But this is my city. I am the prince of the realm. If the wedding isn't tonight or tomorrow, they can surely spare us tonight”

Smiles grew on the faces of the men across the table as Aegon spoke.

“My prince, speak plainly so I may be of help in making your desire come to fruition” Ser Bartimus replied

“Go to those fire dancers, whatever they are being paid for the wedding, tell them I'll double it. And in turn, they present themselves before the prince and….make his night feel good”

And then a round of applause ripped across the table but Aegon wasn't finished “If you see a flute player and a talented drummer, call them in here, find some pipes too and if you see a vendor with roasted duck, tell him the prince wants to buy his whole day's stock”

The applause grew louder and Ser Bartimus rose up to go attend to those instructions. As the night went on, the breeze got crisper. Music flowed through the bar with people dancing and clapping together. The fire dancers wore clothes that seemed more like bejeweled rag clothes draped across their sensitive parts. Two sat on either side of Aegon, some dancers chose which men on his table to sit with, while others gyrated and swayed their hips. The atmosphere was electric, and by now more people swarmed into the bar. Aegon, for the first time in hours, felt good.

"What do you say, lads? Let’s get these women out of their silks. Nothing’s better than dancing when there’s nothing left to hide, eh?” Ian made the crude metaphor while waggling his eye brows.

Ser Erwin scoffed at the statement “In here? Have you gone mad? You want us to get in trouble with the City watch?”

“Oh, you man of little faith. I have the most loyal whore in the Silk Teat. She'd rent us out a free and luxurious lounge if we pay 4 whores worth” Ian declared

Everyone looked at the exotic dancers hungrily.

Aegon asked the dancer who acted like the leader among them “What would it take for you to give us a show in a more private place”

“My prince, it will be a substantial amount to get such a show on short notice. Are you sure you really want to hear the price?”

“Try me”.

Chapter Text

They walked through the crooked corners to get to the Silk Teat. It was four streets away, so a carriage seemed unnecessary. They drew attention to themselves as they joked and laughed on their way there. Finally they saw the six-story building with balconies on each floor and scantily dressed women leaning against the railing of each one.

When they walked through the Silk Teat, they meandered through the hallway with the dancers draped on their arms; that did not stop the women of the brothel from stroking their arms and winking at them as they passed. The ones that saw their loyal customers called out to them, “Ian, are you back for seconds?”

Lisha, a voluptuous prostitute that Aegon often patronized walked up to him, pressed her breasts against his chest and said “My pince, it seems in the last months you've abandoned the Silk Teat for another establishment” Lisha made a mock sad face while rubbing his chest, stopping him from taking a step forward

“The twins at the red desire have distracted me since they showed me their new trick. But I promise I'll come and sample your services soon Lisha”

“Make it today my prince. You're starving me, don't make me starve anymore” Aegon thought it ironic, since he was sure she would have had several customers today, so “starving” was an exaggeration that they both knew.

“If you patronize us today, that means we'd have two princes in a night. Which is a rare occurrence”

Aegon tilted his head and raised his brow “Are you trying to say Aemond is here?”

“Yes, he is”

Aegon chuckled in amusement. “Where is he? Why am I even asking, I have a feeling I know where he is. He's with Sylvie, isnt he or is it Brinny? Gosh, this wine is tampering with my memory”

Aegon turned towards the steps and ascended by jumping two steps at a time with a wicked grin on his face.

His friends followed after him as they watched him scramble up with feverish excitement. The older prince navigated through the familiar hallway. He quietly walked through a door into a plush apartment that had a little boy playing a flute in the corner. The room was heavily scented. Aegon smiled devilishly as he heard inaudible whispers. He then immediately tore open the curtain to reveal what he hoped to see.

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon smiled from ear to ear, but Aemond, the moment he turned to see his brother's face, felt his heart stop and a ringing go off in his ears.

Aemond jumped up from the pillow. Shock and shame spread across his features just as much as it engulfed his insides.

“How is Aegon here? Why? Why is he here? Why are his friends here?” A handful of questions ran through the younger prince's mind.

He immediately turned his back against everyone and bowed his head, hoping that his brother would be decent enough to walk out. If only he knew.

“Why am I even surprised? Aemond Targaryen, the oh so ferocious and formidable swordsman. The rider of the mighty Vhagar, still rolling in the sheets with his first ever lay.” His voice had a mocking and dramatic flare to it. Aegon bore holes into the side of his brother's head despite Aemond refusing to meet his eyes.

Aegon turned towards his friends who were sheepishly watching the scene unfold. “Do you know that my little little brother has never patronized another prostitute?” No one was dumb enough to make a comment during the tense moment between prince dragon riders.

Aemond bit down on his tongue so hard in a bid to quell the heat of shame trying to color his skin. The last thing he wanted was for people to see just how much he wished for the ground to swallow him. He tried to keep a straight face but his lips quivered in anxiety.

“He's so attached. I ask all the time when I'm here if he's patronizing others and they always say no” Aegon could barely breathe from laughter at this point.

“Tell me how you fuck her. Are you any good? Have sex with someone you don't pay so you can know the truth. Do you fuck her like a hound. Do you sound like this WOOF WOOF WOOF” The older prince barked in his brother's ear in front of his friends, in front of Sylvie and the other prostitutes who came into the room after being alerted by the commotion.

It felt to Aemond that he was nothing more than a circus freak put up for show and abuse.

“Sylvie must be really special to you. Is her pussy made of gold or are you just afraid to accost a different prostitute the same way you're lost when it comes to talking to the women at court. He's still riding on how I arranged Sylvie's first meeting with him when he was a wee boy”

“The sad thing is I can't patronise Sylvie to know if her pussy is really made of gold. She is spoken for, I wouldn't want to intrude, you know.” Aegon joked.

He knew, no man, no matter how much he cared for a prostitute, would dare to admit it, especially a proud one like Aemond.

Aegon continued but Aemond tried to blank his mind and deafen his ears to the ridicule. He thought about how the worst had happened. It had finally happened. He'd been caught in Sylvie's arms. Not only in front of Aegon but a dozen of Aegon's friends as well. Now Aegon wanted to cut and slice every bit of little dignity he had left. Not minding the fact he was naked, not minding the fact he was on the bed where he just laid with Sylvie. He didn't hurt anyone. He didn't commit a crime, he didn't do anything but act on the urge that came with being a man so why was he being degraded for it, why was he being humiliated. Aegon has his jabs and he has his cruel jokes but Aemond wondered whether he ever did anything wrong enough to incite this wickedness from Aegon. Aemond didn't understand why he deserved this, but he reminded himself who the fuck he was.

As if a familiar spirit took over him, he rose up from the bed like a phoenix from the ashes, his full naked form on display. Aemond’s features morphed into his most well known mask, the Aemond people didn't have the guts to breathe around. His shoulders squared and his chin jutted up. His eyeball fully opened and trailing the faces of every man in the room. He stared directly into their souls in a way that sent shivers down their spine, as if to dare them to say the wrong thing.

And like Ice, Aemond coldly said

“Fuck her.”

“What?” Aegon was taken aback.

“Fuck her” His younger brother repeated with not a single emotion to his tone

“I've paid her price, so enjoy. I dont give a fuck about Sylvie. She's a whore. One whore is as good as the next. The world would continue spinning if she died tonight. Whores: They spread their legs for any thing, any animal, any beast. Just have a cock. Whether it be Sylvie or a street whore or the whore princess of dragonstone, a whore is a whore.”

Bringing in his estranged half sister's name, it was clear Aemond was holding nothing back to prove a point. They kicked a sleeping beast, so it's only fair everyone squirmed at what he had to say.

“The Whore Princess of Dragonstone, ehh? if you share blood with her, does that not make you a whore too? Aegon tried to continue his wicked banter.

"That whore princess is no blood of mine" Aemond said with the bile evident in his tone

“Oh really, good to know” This time Aegon didn't have a witty retort to give back.

“Your party is free to enjoy Sylvie as you wish. In fact, I insist. You can use up my remaining time after all”

On that note, Aemond strutted out without looking back– Not looking at Sylvie's startled face and not looking at any of Aegon's scared friends who wished they would have been anywhere but there.

Chapter Text

The noise all around Aegon wasn't loud enough. Even when his friends barked like feral beasts at the sight of the naked fire dancers shimmying around them, he still couldn't get fully distracted.

Instead, he was stuck in his own head. His thoughts were striking like a dagger to his ego. The only momentary reprieve was when a fire dancer took his hand to stroke  her tit.

Bartimus’ words echoed in his ears. Maybe it was the fact that Aemond mentioned their so called half sister. It made him pissed all over again that even though his father's brother took to wife the whore, he was still this gallant figure in the streets. 

Aegon requested that they leave the Silk Teat and return to the tavern. What he needed was strong and mind numbing booze. 

After they had retaken their seats, Ser Bartimus peered at the Prince who looked deep in thought.

“A penny for your thoughts, my prince?” 

“Nothing spectacular. Just thinking about my brother, Aemond. I'm running through a list of women I need to throw Aemond’s way. He needs to know how to bed different kinds of women. Can't have him out here embarrassing me as a man faithful to a whore.”

Aegon impressed himself by how smoothly he let out that lie. That wasn't what he was thinking at all. In truth, his mind was now stuck on the Rogue Prince and the Realm's Delight.

Ser Bartimus bit his cheek, took a deep breath, looking slightly downcast and said, “That is a fine task, my prince”

But Aegon noticed this and asked “Is everything alright Barty” 

“Of course, my prince”

“You looked a bit sad there for a second”

Bartimus ponderd for a moment “Well, a girl I was seeing, that I bore by body and soul to, told me our moments together meant nothing. She simply wanted a warm body in bed at the time the winds were still chilly”

“That's so sad. That is really unfair. Sorry, Barty. You're a good man you know that. Someone else, someone better would see that.” Aegon’s voice conveyed actual sympathy. 

Barty looked sadder at the statement. He didn't expect such kind words from Aegon.

Though it didn't last too long because in a bid to cheer Barty up, Aegon continued “A cunt is a cunt. So you shouldn't care too much, okay. I can't remember half the shit I talked about with women I fucked back when the winds were stronger, so be like me. Court women or as I like to say, hunt women, for pleasure only”

Bartimus laughed and wiped the tear that pooled in his eye “My prince, we shouldn't be sad and dreary. We need to drink, we need to party, we need to make your name echo in the streets!”

“Once again you are correct” Aegon hit his cup against his friends own in cheers

Bartimus beckoned the serving girl to come and as he whispered what Aegon assumed to be their next order to her, so he finished the last bit of drink in his cup.

Now he was back in his thoughts because he wasn't talking to anyone. He thought about his desire to get a bigger title in the city than the one the Rogue Prince had. 

But weirdly enough, his thoughts wandered towards the older prince's marriage to his half sister.  

Prince Daemon was like a god walking among to so many people. He was unarguably the most famous man in the continent.

The very, very few times he had been allowed by his father to attend dinners with foreign emissaries, questions about the Rogue Prince were always a constant. 

He was a builder of men and a destroyer. He had raised armies from the lowest to the highest of men. He struck admiration from those who loved him and those who hated him. He won every battle and stared the stranger in the face more times than anyone could count. Aegon knew Aemond wouldn't admit it but his younger brother idolized the older prince. Even though the older prince never acknowledged them besides that one time they tried to beat up his step sons. He never spoke to them nor looked at them. It hurt obviously, but it was beyond their control. 

He couldn't understand how a man like him who could have any of the millions of women who threw themselves at him would choose to settle down with a widowed whore who had 3 sons ahead of him in the line of succession. Okay he understood that the princess did come with a lot of benefits, but still, the Prince seemed faithful and loyal. He never came to the city, and he never came to the brothels that missed him. Never even had a bastard. He just stayed loyal on that rocky island of his. Who stays loyal to a whore? The Rogue Prince was truly a mystery. One he would never understand in this lifetime.

“My Prince, this wine is extremely sweet. They were right when they said that Dorne has exquisite Grey wine”

“Let me have a go”

Aegon downed a cup in a second

“Fuck! This does actually taste so good”

“Hand me the bottle Barty”

“Now this is a bottle” Aegon said to himself. He felt good. He felt like the blood in his veins rushed faster than it ever had.

As if he felt like a new person, he no longer had it in him to be quiet about his thoughts. 

He jumped upon the bar island and began to dance to the music, consequently, more people joined the dance floor with him. 

“Hear Ye! Hear Ye!” Aegon yelled as he smashed two goblets together to grab everyone's attention. 

And truly all eyes turned to where he stood on the island.

“My fellow brethren, let me ask you all here tonight, Do you want the Rogue Prince to return?”

Someone in the crowd shouted, “If you can bring him it would be a pleasure my prince”

“I wish I could make your wish come true but the Rogue Prince only wants to stick to his island and bed his whore wife!”

 Gasps were heard throughout the tavern but others who were far too drunk to think deeply about the statement continued hooting and clapping. The patrons of the tavern didn't know what to say or think. Some even contemplated leaving entirely.

 Aegon's speech was slightly slurred but his voice was still loud as ever, if not louder 

“Yes it is sad. He hoards his presence and only fucks the living daylights out of the whore princess of dragonstone. For whatever reason he doesn't want the city cunts anymore, he prefers the whore. So cast your mind away from him.”

Aegon didn't even give the crowd a chance to respond

“He could be living so many amazing adventures but he cleaves to the slut and her three mutts”

The atmosphere had dimmed because Aegon, to their confusion was making the most injurious statements about his own family. If it were made by any other person aside the prince, it would be considered highly treasonous. People diverted their gaze lest they get accused of agreeing with the Prince's odd speech. Nobody wanted to lose their head on the chopping block.

At this point Ser Ian and Ser Erwin pushed through the crowd to get him down from the table and silence him. Aegon had been wasted before but this was the most he had ever crossed a line. They had to bundle the prince down because Aegon wanted to put up a fight but he was too drunk to successfully escape their grip.

Ser Ian and Ser Erwin were perplexed. They didn't know how the prince did a full 180. He was having a great time before, but now he seemed out of it. The duo agreed that the Prince could not continue the night in public

 Then Ser Bartimus stepped forward and assured them he could take the Prince to his property in the city.

“I'll call on the carriage to take the both of you then” Ser Ian said.

“My carriage is not too far from here. Besides, I just got the property. It’s in a new pristine neighborhood, I doubt Aegon's coach would know the way” 

“That's fair. The Prince can at least wash up and look presentable before returning to the Red Keep” Ian plopped on a nearby chair because he had had his own fill of booze for the night. He was no longer loud and energetic like before.

“Shall I come with” Erwin looked unsettled. He wasn't as drunk as the rest of them, just slightly tipsy but he felt his stomach turn as Barty offered to help the Prince.

“Do not worry yourself my friend. Enjoy the rest of your night” and with that Barty left the tavern to call upon his carriage. 

Chapter Text

He felt raw and exposed even though he was no longer naked. While he strolled the streets aimlessly, with a searing pain in his chest, he felt immeasurable anger at Aegon. He kept searching his mind for what made him deserve this fate in life. Unlike when he was a boy, he knew that there was no use running to report to his mother. Aemond just wanted to get back to the serenity of his chambers.

But before he returned to the Keep to lick his wounds in solitude, Aemond knew that he had to hand Sylvie an extra bag of coins. After all, Aegon barged into her room and disrespected her space. A bag of coins was the least she deserved. He honestly wanted to talk to her, but he already had a horrible night in her room and could not stay in it a second longer. He'd probably need a full month to not have the tainted memories triggered by her space anymore. 

He pressed his ear against the outside wall of Sylvie's room and was glad he heard no voice and no moans.

He walked through the door, and through the curtain, and saw her standing by her window looking out onto the city.

“Who let you in here!” Sylvie barked without turning around.

“It's just me, Madam Sylvie, your little Prince” he raised his hands to his head in playful surrender

“I know it is you Aemond” Sylvie spun around sharply revealing the look of disgust on her face.

“Sylvie, is this about what…”

“Leave”

“Pardon?”

“I said leave, get out! This is my castle and I order you to leave” This was the first time Aemomd saw Sylvie shout. This was the first time he saw her angry. His heartbeat sped up and before he could find the words to deescalate the situation, she whispered 

“Never come back” her eyes were glassy now

And that felt like a stone to Aemond's chest 

“Sylvie, I didn't know. I swear I didn't know my stupid brother would come. I still don't know how, or why” Aemond had to stop because he could hear his voice cracking

“Sylvie could die today and the earth would keep spinning” she laughed a sad humorless laugh. "I'm a fucking mother, Aemond" Sylvie said through gritted teeth.

“Please, pretend I'm dead, Prince Aemond”

“Sylvie I-”

“I've been in this trade for years, Aemond. Do you know we do not come onto random men to patronise us on a whim. We look at them, and analyze who would be a good customer, who would be an honest customer, who would be a safe customer. And we also learn when to let go of customers.”

“I no longer feel safe with you, Aemond. Find another whore, because one good whore is as good as the next after all.

Aemond looked down, and she knew that he could not defend himself.

“I may just be whore, but I'm a whore on my own terms. This is a risky business and I will not be in a situation where I feel unsure and unsafe. You told a prince and a dozen men in his entourage to have their way with me because you paid. Then you walked out. After emphasizing that my life mattered little because of my line of work in front of them. I know and have accepted that we prostitutes are the bottom of society especially to you noble bloods but never did I imagine being in such a situation and never did I imagine it would be because of you, Aemond.

“I do not want for much. Look around my apartment. Do you know how much it costs? I also have a little cottage that I'm building. I too would soon become a landlady. I turn down several customers. I am done being treated like shit by the same men who I make smile everyday. But why should I be surprised that my security was put on the line by a man who is willing to push aside a mother of small children, his own blood, his own sister for a lousy drunk. That is if you, your mother and your grandsire do not even mean to kill h–”

“Silvie!” 

It was too much for Aemond. Hearing it was too much.

“Sylvie, please. You have every right to be angry, I will not challenge you on that, but maybe you have not thought this through, so do not make decisions while you are-”

“I'm a free woman. I'll do whatever I please! But what about you, what will you do? You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, better than most. Why do you not think for yourself? Maybe you'll kill me for this or feed me to your mighty Vhagar, but as my final act of kindness let me tell you this. Aemond Targaryen, you are a slave. You are a slave to your brother, and he isn't even the king. You don't even know whether your grandsire will succeed in putting him on the throne, yet you've signed away your soul to your brother. You are nothing but your family's attack dog, their beast of burden at most. You aren't a person or a human being to them, you are a weapon. And your oh so pious mother & your grandsire don't mind setting you on the bleakest course, on the deadliest path for their happiness, for their power, for Aegon's cause even if it will mean your misery and self destruction.

“You lie!”, was all Aemond could muster out of his dry throbbing throat. He stormed out in a rush but the last thing he heard from her was 

“Goodbye Aemond.” 

Chapter Text

It was another summer morning. Aegon knew it was morning because his head felt like four screws were hammered into his skull. A hangover. He hadn't had a hangover this bad since he was a boy. In fact, he hadn't ever had a hangover this painful. 
 Now that he thought about it, he felt like his head got whacked with a shovel.

 He didn't want to open his eyes, because he knew the headache would intensify that way. He wished he could reach the covers without opening his eyes because his chambers was cold as snow.
He wondered why the maid opened the drapes directly on his face. Couldn't she see that the light was so blinding to him?

To make his headache worse he heard a blood curdling scream, then he heard people run frantically in the direction of the scream. But everywhere went quiet after that. Perfect. 
Then he heard voices approach. He heard whispers and voices of all ages. It had been years since he had a bad hangover. He didn't even feel drunk at the moment so why was he having hallucinations. 
“Is that the Prince?”
“That's the King's son, Prince Aegon right there”
“Why is he like that”
“Meera take your sister away, she's too young to be here”

His brain wouldn't stop. Aegon heard multiple voices at the same time and couldn't make out everything that was being said at once, so he decided to open one eyelid. But instead of sun rays through a curtain, he saw the sunlight directly. 
“What?” He thought to himself.

He opened the second eye and saw he was looking at the sun and the clouds. He turned his head in confusion and saw a statue of a woman. He knew this statue; It had been in the works for months, it seemed almost complete now, besides the painting. The only part of the statue painted was the hair, though incomplete, it had brown and silver colouring.It looked good, actually; the woman it was modelled after seemed so graceful, but what caught his attention was how they were able to make curves and twists like it was a drawing. He wished he could do that “I wonder what the statue means,” Aegon thought to himself. Then it dawned on him…

“Wait! Am I fucking outside?”
 He shot up completely, and a piercing headache zapped through his skull. “Why the fuck am I outside?” he choked through his sore throat. He clutched his head and closed his eyes tightly because the pain was excruciating. Aegon could barely hold himself up or keep his eyes open. Everything felt sore and oddly cold.

He looked around and a crowd of people were pointing and whispering at his waist. He also saw little kids snickering. “Oh come on, nothing should ever be that funny.” So many homeless people sleep outside every day. Why was he any different? 

“What am I doing outside for fuck's sake. What happened?” Aegon couldn't even reminisce because he was distracted by the people around who kept pointing at him and whispering. He never could have imagined the reason why.
With nervousness, he followed the line of their directing fingers and then he realized….

He was completely naked!

His royal cock was on full display for the street to see.
“What in the Seven! Fuck!” 
“Fuck! What the fuck! Who? Where am I?
How did I get here?”


Aegon wanted to shout, he wanted to yell at them. He was stark nude on full display and not a single sight of his original clothing nearby. He was confused and he was too stunned to speak, actually in too much pain to speak audibly. He could only use his hands to cover his cock. 

He tried to stand up despite his massive headache and he tried to cover his cock. But his bare ass was out, and he couldn't turn anywhere because the crowd of people formed a circle around him. A circle that increased with each passing second.
A lady in the crowd untied her shawl and threw it at him.

He scrambled to catch it from where it dropped to cover himself. He was sandy, and goosebumps of shame prickled on his skin. The shawl was slightly transparent under the sun, but at this moment he couldn't be picky. 
He was weak and in pain. He didn't know where his friends were, he didn't even know where his carriages were. He felt completely and utterly lost. The number of eyes on him, surrounding him, made him feel apprehensive and did not help his case at all.
Then clanking of metal was heard. The clanking of armoured men and footsteps of thick heavy boots. Then thunderous authoritative voices echoed through the crowd:
“Move out of the way!”
“Move or be moved!”
“Make way for the City watch”
Like a guardian angel to a distressed soul, Aegon felt a glimmer of hope hearing the city watch come through.
A tall man who was obviously a member of the city watch with green eyes and blond hair approached Aegon first,
“My Prince, you need to follow us”. One of the city watchmen dragged his cloak off his own shoulders and handed it to him to cover himself properly. He nodded in appreciation or what could pass for a nod because his head was still sore.
Aegon could barely even talk, but he just staggered after the four city watchmen who were practically his knights in shining armour.
For the first time in over a week, he remembered his mother telling him about the King's threats that he so brazenly scoffed at. Aegon needed to find his friends so they could help him think of a way to sweep this horrible morning under the carpet before his parents found out. 


Aegon had no clue what the rest of the day would bring, but the terrifying thought was the previous night– a blank space where he, for some reason, knew nothing of what had transpired.